


Happy birthday, Bucky

by GoodGollyMissYollie (Yollie183)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky's birthday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollie183/pseuds/GoodGollyMissYollie
Summary: Bucky Barnes turns 100 years old!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Civil War, BUT the cryofreeze in Wakanda has set Bucky's recovery back a bit from what we see in CW. 
> 
> I wrote this yesterday, and thought it was a really clever and original idea, but going through the new fics posted here today, I realized it might not be as original as I thought. But I'm posting anyway, because Bucky's 100th birthday is a once in a lifetime event.

The sound of the door being opened woke Bucky from a troubled sleep. He turned onto his back, forcing his eyes open to see who was there.

“Morning, Buck.” It was Steve, smiling and carrying a tray which seemed to hold breakfast if the smell of bacon and coffee was any indication.

“Mornin’,” Bucky mumbled, fighting down the impulse to add ‘sir’ or drop to the floor on his knees. Steve did not react well the one time he’d done that.

Steve brought the tray over and placed in over Bucky’s legs.

Bucky frowned at him. “Why?”

He still had trouble stringing together full sentences, but Steve never got impatient or tried to punish him.

“It’s a special occasion, breakfast in bed seemed fitting.”

Bucky looked down at the tray. Eggs, bacon, toast, tomato, sausage, orange juice, coffee and a bowl of fruit salad.

“Thank you.”

Steve smiled, and Bucky quirked his lips up in response.

“Eat up, we’re going out in a couple of hours.”

Bucky nodded and picked up his cutlery, piling his eggs on top of his toast as Steve left the room.

The food was good, and Bucky felt almost _human_ by the time he’d stepped out of the shower and gotten dressed in his ‘going out’ uniform of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and a hooded jacket, all in black, because it made him feel more comfortable than the soft blues that Steve favored.

 

Steve was waiting in the little sitting room of their suite in Stark Tower. After the fight, and Wakanda, and Stark rebuilding Bucky’s arm, there had been a truce. Steve’s quarters had been downgraded to a much smaller suite with two bedrooms to accommodate Bucky. When Bucky had expressed his guilt at the situation, Steve had given him a smile and a one-armed hug and reminded him that it was still three times the size of the apartment they had shared before the war. Bucky had remembered, vaguely, and felt a little sadness for the men they used to be.

Steve was talking to Sam, who was leaning against the back of the couch, facing away from Bucky. Bucky liked Sam, he was kind and funny and always told Bucky when he was being annoying. And he had taught Bucky how to play videogames. Yes, Bucky liked Sam, even more when he won at Mario Kart and Sam threw his controller in frustration.

“It’ll be fun,” Steve was saying, and Sam huffed out a breath.

“Sure. Crowds, loud noises, flashing lights. The most fun.”

“It’s daytime. And not even spring.”

“Your optimism is sickening.”

Steve gently shoved Sam’s shoulder, then turned and smiled at Bucky. “Ready to go, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, moving closer to stand next to Sam. The other man was always so calm and centered, it washed over Bucky in waves. He was okay with going outside, but it still helped to be prepared for it.

They walked a bit, then took the subway. Bucky had learned quickly that asking for Sam’s iPod and keeping his eyes closed were the best ways to avoid freaking out, so he did that now, scrolling straight through to the playlist Sam had made specifically for him that contained heavier music than Sam himself listened to. Steve didn’t mind that either, sitting close enough for his shoulder and thigh to pressed against Bucky’s, a constant assurance of his presence.

Steve tapped the back of Bucky’s right hand to draw his attention. They had reached their stop.

 

“Is this…?” Bucky trailed off, eyes widening in awe.

“Coney Island, yeah,” Steve was grinning brightly. “Bet you I won’t throw up if we go on the Cyclone now.”

“Cotton candy,” Bucky told him. “If you throw up, I want all the cotton candy.”

Steve laughed and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get that over with first, then,” he told the two overgrown super-soldier children.

 

Steve didn’t throw up, though he was pretty green around the gills when they got off the rollercoaster. Despite winning the bet, Steve still bought Bucky a small mountain of cotton candy, which he ate with relish and a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. They had a lunch of hotdogs, tacos, soft pretzels and all the other kinds of junk food their metabolisms could handle, while Sam watched in part fascination, part disgust.

 

It was late afternoon when they returned to the Tower and Bucky and Sam made themselves comfortable with their game controllers while Steve went to confirm some arrangements with Stark. Since Bucky didn’t have mission clearance yet, he didn’t dare ask, in case Steve was running headfirst into danger and he couldn’t go to watch the punk’s back. Sometimes, Bucky had learned, ignorance was bliss.

He and Sam played Portal 2 and insulted each other’s competence, intelligence, mothers and manhood. Sam let loose with a barrage of curses he would never say with Steve in the vicinity, though Bucky never could understand why, since Steve had been in the Army, and before that learned to curse from Bucky. At least Bucky thought so. He was certain he remembered him and Steve daring each other to say increasingly vulgar words in quiet whispers so Mrs. Rogers wouldn’t hear them and wash out their mouths with soap.

 

At some point after the sun had set outside the large windows, Sam turned to Bucky.

“I think this is a good place to admit defeat.”

Bucky was a little disappointed that their game was over, but he realized that Sam must be tired after their day out.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” Sam nudged Bucky’s shoulder. “I got something to show you.”

Bucky felt a knot of apprehension in his stomach. A vague memory flickered in his mind’s periphery, the ‘Hail Hydra’ twisting like acid through him.

But this was Sam. This was Stark Tower, where Steve was never more than a few floors away from him. This was safety, not Hydra.

Bucky got to his feet and followed Sam into the elevator, where he pushed the button for the penthouse. Bucky frowned at him, but Sam just rolled his eyes.

 

The elevator doors slid silently open and the first thing Bucky saw was a huge banner emblazoned with the number 100. Confused, he looked down at the people gathered there. Stark and Pepper Potts, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, T’Challa, Peter, Rhodey, Scott, Wanda, Vision, Thor, Jane, Darcy, and there, in the middle, was Steve. He was grinning, looking at Bucky like he was the only thing worth paying attention to. In between the gathered crowd (where Sam took his place next to T’Challa) and Bucky was a table carrying champagne flutes filled with golden liquid and a large, extravagantly decorated cake.

The confusion that gripped Bucky was slowly twisted into fear. Another hazy memory, of a party, and a young, cruel Alexander Pierce and pain and humiliation. Bucky stumbled back a half-step, his dry lips trying to form Steve’s name. Then Steve was there, right in front of Bucky, warm hands gripping Bucky’s shoulders, blue eyes pulling Bucky back to the present.

“Buck?” Steve’s thumbs gently slid back and forth over Bucky’s collarbones. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay, I’m sorry, Bucky.”

The words were very quiet, and they calmed Bucky almost immediately. He nodded. “’M okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and gave Steve a little smile, which he returned with another sunny grin.

“Can we cut the cake now?” Came Starks voice, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Sure, Tony,” Steve called over his shoulder, then, quieter, to Bucky; “Want some cake?”

Bucky nodded and let Steve lead him over to the people who seemed to deem the price of a piece of cake be a hug or handshake from each of them. Bucky let himself be squeezed and clapped on the back, before taking a plate with a piece of cake from Steve.

“Steve,” Bucky said, motioning to their surroundings. “I don’t… I don’t understand?”

A hush seemed to fall, and Steve’s eyes widened. “Buck… It’s the tenth of March.”

Bucky nodded, still confused, waiting for Steve to continue.

“It’s your birthday, Buck. Your one-hundredth birthday, to be precise.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, a little weakly, because he’d forgotten that he had one of those.

“There wasn’t enough space on the cake for candles, aside from the fire hazard,” Stark interjected, though his voice was more teasing than unkind.

“Candles?” Bucky asked.

“To make a wish,” Stark answered. “Suppose you don’t get one this year.”

“Don’t be mean, Tony,” Pepper admonished. “Of course he still gets a wish.”

“I do?” Bucky directed the question at Steve, who nodded.

“Sure you do, Buck.”

Bucky took a moment to deliberate, setting his plate on the table. Then he gripped Steve’s face with both hands and pressed their lips together.

There was a moment of calm, like holding in a breath, before Steve’s hands found Bucky’s hips and he kissed him back and the room burst into applause and cheers.

Steve smiled against Bucky’s lips when they finally pulled apart just barely enough to breathe.

“Happy birthday, Bucky.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated <3


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